


the truth is rarely pure (and never simple)

by owilde



Category: Shadowhunters (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Victorian, Established Relationship, Fake Wedding, Historical References, It's a Victorian con operation, Multi, Romance, Wordcount: 10.000-30.000
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-19
Updated: 2018-06-19
Packaged: 2019-05-25 12:19:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 15,136
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14977034
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/owilde/pseuds/owilde
Summary: It was the early morning of June the 4th when Alec decided that something had to be done about the situation at hand. He was curled up in bed when a familiar arm sneaked around his waist, and the ever more familiar voice whispered,I’m glad you decided to spend the night.Alternatively, a Victorian con operation for Robert Lightwood's money, where thepiece de resistanceis a mock wedding - now with a queer twist (or two, or three.)





	the truth is rarely pure (and never simple)

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Lindsey7618](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lindsey7618/gifts).



> My knowledge on all things Victorian is limited to an essay I did on Oscar Wilde and Victorian queer circles + being a fan of ACD Holmes, _sooo_ if something seems really out of place – my apologies. I was writing this on a holiday with limited wifi, so, research was...... tricky 
> 
> Anyhoots, this is a birthday fic for my dearest Lea – every year I thank a deity that you’re here, for me to write silly fics for. Happy birthday, and I love you very very much :')
> 
> ALSO title taken from Oscar Wilde's "The Importance of Being Earnest" (i have this as a tattoo ascnkkfnk)
> 
> also also, i did not have the time for a re-read after work SO should there be any noticeable mistakes.... soz

It was the early morning of June the 4th when Alec decided that something had to be done about the situation at hand. He was curled up in bed when a familiar arm sneaked around his waist, and the ever more familiar voice whispered, _I’m glad you decided to spend the night_.

Alec was glad, too. He’d never been more certain of anything as he’d been when Magnus had fixed him an imploring look, and asked if he’d like to stay after the rest of the guests had gone. For an evening cup of gin, he’d said. Alec was well aware what an evening cup of gin had evolved to in the past.

This time, it had felt like more. When Magnus glanced at him over his tumbler and smiled, in the way that he usually did, more a smirk than a smile but warm and homely and safe nevertheless, and he asked – very coyly – if Alec would like to see his bed, he had new sheets, they were very fine indeed – well, what was he supposed to have done?

And so, Magnus showed him his new, fine silk sheets, and some more, and Alec wondered how it was that they’d been doing this, this thing he didn’t quite know how to define, for almost a year now but had never thought to explore options beyond kisses and groping.

Now they had. Alec had been about to fall asleep when a thought had slipped into his mind, unbidden and very, _very_ forbidden – a thought that went somewhere along the lines of affection that demanded to be spoken aloud, that demanded to be felt, that demanded quite many things from Alec that he didn’t know how to give.

He knew how to start, though.

 _I love you_ , he’d thought, and then said aloud, and Magnus had sleepily responded in kind, not thinking twice about it.

And thus a few hours later, Alec had decided, sleeping next to Magnus and listening to him snore softly, that something had to be done.

Which lead him here, standing in the buzzling street sometime in the afternoon, unsure of whether he’d survive this entire ordeal he’d been planning in his mind since three in the morning.

Alec cleared his throat and flexed his gloved fingers, curled around the handle of his cane. It was a family heirloom, passed down from over a hundred years ago until it had been handed to him for his 21st birthday, last fall. It was a nice cane, sturdy dark oak with a glistening silver handle sculpted like a falcon’s beacon.

Because, his father had told him countless times, a falcon represented success. Because the Lightwoods had always been, and should always be, successful. It was now Alec’s duty to ensure that their future was as Robert wanted it to be. A successful company, and someone to helm it.

It seemed highly unlikely that the company would carry on in the Lightwood name for very long, especially if Alec had anything to do with it.

Robert would be disappointed. Alec could picture him grumbling about it till his grave.

It made a lovely mental image.

He took a deep breath and knocked on the door with his cane, thrice. Tiny snakes twisted around in his stomach, nibbling at his skin. The door stayed shut for some very long seconds, during which Alec’s heart began to climb up his throat. He tightened his grip on the cane for false comfort.

The door swung open, revealing a befuddled Clary Fray with her auburn hair is slight disarray and the right shoulder of her dress dragging down in a way that spoke more than words ever could. “Alec?” Clary asked, frowning. She tried to fix her dress. “Pardon me, but what are you doing here?”

Alec attempted a smile but it fell flat. “Clarissa,” he greeted, then amended, “Clary. I have some quite bad news to bare.” He took a deep breath. He’d thought the words over on his way to the house, in the carriage and then in front of the door for some minutes. They seemed to be slipping away. “I’m afraid that we have to get wed, preferably next month,” he managed, in a quick succession.

Clary blinked at him for a few seconds in silence. Then she gave a beleaguered sigh, and stepped aside to make way for Alec. “Come in,” she said. “You’re just in time for tea. I’m sorry my housekeeper didn’t open the door for you, I dismissed her for the afternoon.”

They settled in the sitting room where, as Alec had predicted, his sister was waiting. Isabelle huffed in amusement upon seeing him, and rolled her eyes. She was draped across the sofa with her ankles crossed and her shoes on the floor.

“Isabelle,” Alec said, tipping his hat with a dry smile. “What a surprise.”

“Alexander,” she replied, giving him a wide, thoroughly fake smile. “I’m flabbergasted you’re here right now. Do you purposefully aim to sabotage my tea sessions with Clary, or does it come naturally, I wonder?”

“Tea sessions,” Alec repeated, amusement lacing his voice. He sat down on one of the arm chairs, setting his hat on the table and his cane leaning against the chair. “Is that what they’re calling it these days?”

Isabelle’s lips turned up into a tight, mocking smile. “Funny,” she said. “I don’t understand why you won’t give being an actor a chance. You could do comedies so well. Still, it’s good to see you after so long.” She paused. “Why, exactly…”

She paused again as Clary walked in with a tray, which she set down on the table. Isabelle moved her feet to give Clary enough space to sit down next to her, and reached out to grab a cup of tea. She blew on the surface to cool it down.

“So,” Isabelle continued. “Why, exactly, are you here? I assume you have a motive of some kind, other than to bask in our delightful company.

“Oh,” Clary said airily, “he’s here to propose to me.”

Alec took his own cup and sipped it. Oolong, imported from China, if he had to guess – expensive, but then, the Frays were. Well – Fray. Singular. “As I said, next month would be terrific. Summer services are so lovely.”

Isabelle looked disappointed. “Ah. Father finally gave you the ultimatum? He forgot to mention it to the rest of us.”

Alec nodded. “That’s a nice way of putting it. He sent a letter last week – if I can’t produce a wife by the end of the year, I can kiss goodbye to my inheritance.” He fixed Isabelle a look. “You know how close he is to passing away. It wouldn’t be for more than a few years. We’ll share the money.”

“You expect me to share my beau for half of an inheritance?” Isabelle asked. She glanced at Clary, and bit her lip. “Although, of course, we would split it three ways, and this isn’t my decision to make,” she hastened to add.

Clary smiled at her. “You’re so considerate,” she cooed. She turned to look at Alec, and her smile faltered into a small frown. “What would you do with the company?”

Alec shrugged. “Sell it. I’ve no need for it, and the money could come in handy.”

Clary fell into a thoughtful silence. She stirred her tea quietly, staring into the cup as if it held all the answers. “So, I’m counting inheritance and the company benefits,” Clary said, “and a quick marriage with a definite divorce in the end?”

“The most definite,” Alec vowed. He thought about Magnus, and his heart did an odd jolt. “I have… other interests, as well.” Other interests that he ought to explain the situation to, before news got out and Magnus got the wrong impression. Alec didn’t think he would, but he hated uncertainties.

His words peaked Isabelle’s interest. She sat up properly and set her tea down, staring at Alec like he was a particularly interesting exotic bird. “Other interests?” She asked. “What interests are those?”

“Interests that don’t prefer to be gossiped about,” Alec said wryly. “Suffice to say, he’s very important to me. We’d like to… well, _I_ had thought about buying a countryside apartment for us. I need money for that. On top, I need money to feel secure enough that it won’t matter if some people should question anything.” He smiled. “You do know how people talk.”

Isabelle made an understanding face. “We most certainly do.” She glanced at Clary again. “Well, what do we think? We could use the money, if nothing else. And a marriage, even with a divorce, would dispel some of the more… adamant rumours.”

Clary nodded slowly. “I think so, yes. If we put a notice out now, we might be wed next month. Your father won’t be here for much longer, the marriage will dissolve within the year. And then we’ll all be rich, and he’ll be none the wiser.”

Alec grinned, and stood up. “Brilliant,” he said. “I’ll alert the press.”

 

*

 

_5 th of June 1898_

_A notice for the upcoming wedding of MR. ALEXANDER LIGHTWOOD and MS. CLARISSA FAIRCHILD, to be held on the 26 th of July. The soon-to-be-wed pair says they are “delighted” by the turn of events – says it’s been a long-time coming._

_Mr. Lightwood issued a comment on the matter, saying, “It is very exciting to us both. We’ve been very infatuated with each other for such a long time – I’m beyond ecstatic. We’re both shocked at how easy the decision was. I’m certain ours will be a loving marriage.”_

_The Daily Telegraph eagerly awaits for news on the progression of the event, and we’re all delighted to share in on this joyous occasion._

*

 

“’I’m beyond ecstatic’,” Magnus quoted from the papers. He glanced up at Alec with a quirked brow and a smile that did something peculiar to make Alec’s knees a little weak. It was a little unfair, the effect all his manoeuvres had on Alec. “Is that not a little overboard?”

Alec shrugged, reaching over the table to grab a biscuit. “How should I know what people normally say?” He asked. “It’s not as though I’ve ever gotten married before.”

“All the better,” Magnus mumbled, turning back to the newspaper. “One is already more than enough.”

Alec fought the urge to blurt out something like, _I’d marry you if I could_. It was true – he would’ve, in a heartbeat. But that was not something one said over breakfast, and especially not on a Sunday. So, he settled on a less incriminating, “Do you think we should buy a house together?”

The slice of bacon that had been halfway to Magnus’ mouth froze along with the rest of his body. He set the slice back down slowly, and when he closed the newspaper as well, Alec knew he’d said something wrong.

“A house?” Magnus asked, his voice carefully void of emotion.

“Yes,” Alec managed. “For the two of us. In the countryside.”

“A _house_ ,” Magnus repeated. “With your father’s inheritance?”

“Yes,” Alec said. In lieu of anything better to add, he also said, “we could have a garden.”

Magnus blinked at him. “A garden,” he echoed. “Of course. And sell our city quarters?”

Truth be told, Alec had not thought that far. He’d have preferred to keep an apartment in the city as well, but he didn’t know about the costs. A city apartment would’ve been good for the winter. But then, if they bought a mansion, the winter wouldn’t necessarily be an issue regardless.

“Maybe,” he summarised aloud. “We’d have to consider it. But…” He drummed his fingers against the table, nervously. “Would you want to? I don’t wish to impose, if you’d feel uncomfortable about the notion of us living together. It was just a thought I had – a fantasy.”

Magnus looked down at his slice of bacon, and as slowly as he’d set it down, picked it up again and took a bite. “I don’t find it uncomfortable,” he said carefully. “But I fear you might. This is fine, days like this where you stay for the night and we have breakfast together and then you leave, but sometimes I wish it was more than that. And I don’t know if you do.”

Alec wasn’t sure how it was he’d fallen for this ridiculous man in the first place. Well, he knew _how_ – he knew very well how. But sometimes he wondered.

“Of course I do,” he said. “I suggested the thought of a shared house, did I not?”

“Yes, but—” Magnus pursed his lips. He stared into his tea for a while, as if mulling a thought over. Then he looked back at Alec. “You’re quite right. And when people start talking?”

“People do little less,” Alec said nonchalantly. “Let them talk. We’ll leave the country if needs must. France, where Wilde went. They’re not as eager to catch us anymore, either way. We could have a life that isn’t comprised of hasty breakfasts.”

Magnus looked considering. His tea lay forgotten on the table, cold by now. “I suppose,” he started. “I suppose that might be… good.”

“Yes?” Alec asked, and he couldn’t contain the excitement in his voice. “So, do we agree? We get the money from my father, and then once we get our share…”

“Then we buy a mansion,” Magnus confirmed. His frown turned into a smile, the corners of his eyes crinkling delightfully. “With a garden.”

“I demand roses,” Alec said, and poured himself a fresh cup of tea. “And a marble statue of Achilles.”

Magnus laughed. “I’d expect nothing less.”

When Alec left for his own house a few hours later, his steps felt lighter.

 

*

 

Alec decided to visit Robert a few days later. Not because he particularly wanted to, far from it – but he hadn’t seen Robert since the wedding announcement had gone off, and he knew he’d be curious. It was better he heard the details, skewed though they may be, from Alec and not through the grapevine.

They hadn’t lived under the same roof for a few years, now. Alec had decided to go, first lodging at 2nd Street and later cumulating enough wealth to afford his own place. A small place, granted, but his own. The money filtered to him through Robert and his company, and from the odd jobs he did when he grew desperate for extra shillings and his pride kept him from going to his father.

Isabelle and Jace, still younger than him and still at the clutches of their father, remained at home – though, Isabelle spent most of her days with Clary and some of their friends, whilst Jace gallivanted about, doing what he did best – getting himself into trouble.

Alec missed them, on most days. He didn’t visit nearly enough, since the mere presence of his father and his snide remarks felt intolerable, but he thought maybe he ought to figure out some kind of a system with Isabelle, to only visit when he was away on business or other such thing.

The house hadn’t changed since Alec’s last visit, nearly two months past. The steps still creaked and groaned, the maids still fluttered about nervously, and most of all, Robert still effectively lived from his study.

He’d done so for as long as Alec could remember. He recalled being a child and watching through the crack of the door as Robert filed papers, read over his books, and paced around in a circle, his forehead wrinkled in worry.

When he’d notice Alec, he’d march over to the door, looking dismayed, and press the door shut.

That was where Alec found him now, hunched over some books with his quill flying across the paper at a leisurely pace. Upon hearing the door creak open, he dipped his quill in and continued writing until he reached the end of the page.

When he turned around to face Alec, he smiled, but it didn’t seem to reach his eyes. “Alexander,” he greeted. “A pleasure. I’d almost forgotten what you look like by now.”

 _I wish I had the same pleasure_. Alec closed the door and took a few steps further, glancing around him. “You’ve put these up,” he commented, gesturing towards some papers pinned on the wall. “Awards?”

“Yes.” Robert remained sat. “For work. I thought they might motivate me.”

Alec didn’t think Robert needed any further motivation for work, but he said nothing. “I assume you know why I’m here,” he said instead, turning to look at Robert.

Robert nodded slowly. He got a glisten in his eye, or perhaps Alec was imagining things. “You’re to be married,” he said. “I have to say, the news caught me by surprise. Clarissa Fray, of all things – you love her, is it so?”

It would’ve been almost comical, had this been a conversation with anyone else. As it were, Alec tried not to stiffen. “Well, I _am_ marrying her, am I not?” He asked. “That should be answer enough. You should have nothing to complain about – the Frays still enjoy a good reputation, and good wealth, as well. Since Jocelyn’s passing, Clary— _Clarissa_ has been so lonely. It is good for her to have company.”

He didn’t mention that someone was already very much keeping Clary company, in ways that Alec never would or even wanted to. Robert need not know that at least two of his children were meddling with the love that dare not speak its name.

“Yes,” Robert said. He eyed Alec, and his smile grew deeper. “I am, of course, glad of these news. I wish you had told me sooner that you were already involved with someone, I now feel my letter was a moot point.”

 _I am involved with someone_ , Alec thought. _His name is Magnus, and you will never so much as hear his name from my mouth, because even a deaf man could hear the affection in my voice when I speak of him aloud. Nor do you deserve to hear about him – he’s too good for that._

“Not at all,” Alec said. “It was the letter that spurred me in my decisions to go ahead with the wedding. Without it, who knows what might’ve happened.”

Robert nodded. “Good, then. Very good. The wedding is next month, yes? I will—”

His words were cut off by a cough. It was a loud, wet hacking sound, which made Robert double over. He continued coughing for some seconds, and when he stopped and took a deep, rattling breath, Alec spied speckles of blood on his palm before Robert reached for a handkerchief and wiped it all off.

“Cursed disease,” Robert said coarsely. “I fear it will best me within the year.” He fixed Alec a look. “But you know that, already.”

Alec blinked. “I do,” he agreed. “Mother told me as much. I feel you should retire to the countryside, where the air is fresher—”

“I cannot work from the bloody countryside,” Robert cut in sharply. In a softer tone, he added, “it was my wish to see one of my children wed before I pass. It is good that this will come true.”

 _Wed and divorced within a year, should we have our way_ , Alec thought. He didn’t say any of it aloud. It was for the better. “I do hope you can attend the service,” he said. “We’ll be glad to have you there.”

“Yes,” Robert mumbled. He was staring at the bloody handkerchief, his lips pursed. “Yes, yes. You will send a formal invitation?”

Alec promised that he would. He left Robert alone in his study, hunched back over his books. As if they mattered a single bit. As if any of it did.

He found Maryse in the living room, reading. She looked up as he walked in, and Alec felt a jolt in his heart when her face lit up at the sight of him. Guilt, mixed in with relieve, swelled in his chest. Relieve, because she still looked glad to see him. Would she always? Would she, if she knew the truth about him?

“Alec,” she breathed out, smiling. She made note of her page in the book and closed it on the table. “Come, sit down, sit next to me.” She patted the spot on the sofa next to her.

Alec obliged. Maryse reached towards him, wrapping her arms around him in an embrace. She smelled of lavender and smoke – it seemed she still hadn’t dropped the habit. Alec wasn’t one to lecture. But her arms felt feeble, and something painful lodged in his throat.

She was still taking care of Robert, at the cost of her own strength. Despite it all, she loved him – Alec knew how deep love could run, how complex it was, but still. Isabelle had told him about the mistress; it had been after he’d left that they’d found out. A divorce wasn’t an option, not for them – so Maryse grit her teeth and bared it out, and now they had settled on a common ground a kind, it seemed.

Or perhaps things like infidelity paled in the shadow of a promise of death, Alec mused. Perhaps a few mistakes didn’t matter, then. He didn’t presume to understand how his mother’s mind worked.

She held him at an arm’s distance, her head tilted to consider him with a small, fond smile. “How have you been?” She asked. Her arms dropped. “I heard of your marriage. You must be happy – I hope you are. How fairs your wife-to-be?”

Alec smiled back at her, and relished at how easy it felt, how natural. “She fairs well,” he said. “I hope, at least. I haven’t seen her in a few days, now. I’ve kept busy.”

“Busy?” Maryse frowned.

“Social gatherings,” Alec explained. He only spoke half the truth. “There’s this gentleman who’s very insistent I attend his parties. We’ve made good friends this past year.”

Maryse looked taken aback, as Alec might’ve expected. “You’ve made a friend? Well, who is he? Would I know him?”

Alec smiled to himself. “ _Of_ him, perhaps. Magnus Bane.”

“Bane?” Maryse’s frown deepened. “He does sound familiar. What does he…” Her face cleared. “Oh, of course. The store near the station. He runs it, does he not?”

The store was known in some circles around London, and even further. Magnus sold herbs, mixes, promises – those, most of all. Promises of love, marriage, luck, even death. Unlike most, he kept all his promises. Alec had never once heard a complaint from a customer.

He also saw what was to come. A glimpse into the future was precious to some, and he made a lot of money that way. Alec didn’t know how much of those visions were true, neither did he know whether to believe in it or not. But he’d heard of queerer things happening, too.

“Yes,” he told Maryse. “You—” But he thought against it. Maybe it was for the better if they never met. “It’s a lovely place,” he said instead. “He’s been a good friend to me.”

Her expression melted into a smile. “I’m glad, then, that someone is keeping my son company. Ever since you left, I’ve been worried. You’ve always been so withdrawn, I thought… well, it matters not what I thought or didn’t. All that matters is that you’re happy.”

“I am,” Alec said truthfully. He had Magnus, and soon, he’d have his father’s inheritance and the garden Magnus had promised him, and the mansion, and most of all, freedom. “I’ll have the invitation to the wedding sent to you. I hope father can attend, despite the… despite his condition.”

A dark shadow flitted across Maryse’s face for a second, before her smile returned. It seemed sadder. “We’ll see what can be done,” she assured him. “I’ll have word sent, either way.” She stared at him with an odd expression, sorrow and joy and pride all at once. “My eldest son, to be married. It seems unreal.”

It was then that Alec felt a twinge of guilt over the whole ordeal. It was all well and good to scheme Robert of his pennies, but his mother wanted to believe in this, believe that Alec had found love. What kind of a son was he, to deceive her? What kind of a son would he be to her, if he told her the truth?

“I…” He started, blinking at her. “Mother, I—there’s something I must…”

She shushed him, lifting a hand to command silence. “Alexander,” she started. “Whatever it is, I don’t need to know now. There’s a time, and a place. I’m almost certain that what is on your mind won’t be something pleasing to hear. Please wait until after the wedding to tell me.”

Alec didn’t know he’d have the courage, then. Nothing seemed certain to him. He needed to visit Magnus, after this.

“All right,” he agreed, weakly. “After the wedding, then.”

 

*

 

The knot in his stomach didn’t ease until he’d been let in Magnus’ house. The maids knew him, and knew what he was – who he was, to Magnus. They pretended to be blind and deaf, and got paid a good deal for it, and everyone remained happy. It was a largely beneficial arrangement.

Alec navigate his way to the living room, where Magnus was having tea. He looked up at the sound of footsteps, and smiled brightly. “Alexander.” His name had never sounded like a sweeter melody. “Have a seat. Tea?”

Alec waved the offer aside, flopping down on one of the armchairs. “No, thank you. I’ve just come from my parents’ house, I had tea with mother. She insisted.”

Magnus made an understanding sound. “I see. A sandwich, perhaps? Scones?”

“I didn’t come here for the food,” Alec said. “Nor the beverages.”

Magnus cocked his head. “Then why did you?”

Alec looked back at him. “Something happened. With mother.”

“Ah.” Magnus put his cup down, and leaned back on his sofa, his arms crossed over his chest. “What, pray tell, was it? Something serious?”

Not serious yet, no, but later, most certainly. Maryse was now expecting something from him – news, grand news. She wasn’t one to forget, either. What had been a spur of the moment decision now felt like a ball and chain tied around his ankle.

“I was going to tell her,” Alec said. “Of you. Me. Us, I suppose. I would have, had she not interrupted. She said to save it after the wedding. Only now I’m not so sure I should tell her at all.”

Magnus didn’t look surprised. “Telling her will risk a lot,” he said. “But you know that already. That’s not why you’re here.”

“It was your opinion I was fishing for,” Alec admitted. “Your opinion on what to do, how much to say, if anything at all. She loves me a lot, but I fear it may not be enough. Not in this case.”

“Perhaps not,” Magnus agreed. “A mother’s love is a powerful thing, but this… well, it is difficult for me to say anything one way or another, considering I know little of your mother aside for what you’ve told me. It really is impossible for me to say, unless you want for me to look—”

“No,” Alec decided, before the question was even finished. “No looks into the future. That would only cement what will pass, and I like to believe I have a hand in changing it, still.”

Magnus smiled a little. “You still would. You’d simply know one alternative previously veiled.”

“Do your prophecies only work on people because they don’t want to change what they think will happen?” Alec asked, genuinely curious. “Do you tell them that?”

Magnus gave a slight shrug. “I tell them what is necessary,” he said. “They pay me to see their futures, and I do. What they do with that knowledge is out of my hands entirely.”

 _One alternative._ Maybe Alec should agree to it. He was dying to know. But it didn’t sit right with him, not yet – he’d have to sleep on it.

Magnus walked over to him, and pressed a gentle kiss on his forehead. “Tell me what you decide when you’ve arrived at a conclusion,” he said quietly. “In the meantime, I have some new books in the library, and one special edition I think you’d be particularly interested in.”

Alec smiled widely, catching Magnus’ eyes in his. “You know how to make a man swoon,” he said. “Lead the way, then.”

The special edition turned out to be a notebook of the original copy of _The Picture of Dorian Gray_. Alec picked it up gingerly from the table where it had been laid, brushing his thumb against the smooth handwriting.

“How did you…” He trailed off, turning the page.

Magnus appeared behind him and wrapped his arms around Alec’s middle, leaning against his back. His chin pressed against Alec’s shoulder. “They sold all his belongings,” he said. “They’ve been circling around London. I was lucky enough to be visited by a customer with no other means of payment but this little thing. For a small promise of love, I gained an immense treasure.”

Alec turned around, letting Magnus’ hands move to his waist. “You do know that I love you, yes?” It felt good to say aloud – he liked the way it rolled off this tongue, smooth and certain.

Magnus smiled at him. “Oh, very much so. You keep reminding me of it on the daily, now.”

“Some words ought to be repeated often.” Alec glanced back at the book. “I can scarcely believe it.”

“If this is your reaction to a book, I wonder what you’ll do with a letter.”

Alec’s eyes snapped up to him. “What?”

Magnus produced a thin, dirty white piece of paper from his pocket. “A letter, I said. From one Bosie, addressed to you know who. Dates back to 1894, authentic, I had it checked. An interesting letter, too, quite eloquent…”

Alec had leaned in for a kiss before he could finish. “Do shut up,” he whispered against Magnus’ lips. “You absolute madman.” Then he kissed him again, like there was no tomorrow, like nothing else mattered.

Hardly nothing else did.

 

*

 

_19 th of June 1898_

_Alexander,_

_I write to you in the confidence that no one else will read this letter, and that it shall not fall into the wrong hands. I do hope I am right on that matter, otherwise we’ll both be in trouble for it and I’d rather not be the cause of yet another unfortunate happenstance._

_It seems that I’ve gotten myself into a bit of trouble, here in the manor. Perhaps Father told you I was here? Perhaps he did not. Be that as it may, I shall clear the issue for you briefly._

_After paying off my unfortunate gambling debts – on top of my dabbling in opiates – Father thought it best to send me away from London and its vices for some time. As it happens, through no action of my own and before we even knew of the news, the place he decided upon was the Lewis manor – how appropriate, considering your wife-to-be._

_Only, I was not the only one here. There’s another one, Maia, who’s unfortunate sin in life was to be married to the wrong man. I’ve heard the most horrid things about him, as no doubt have you, too, if the rumours concerning your recent social life are to be believed._

_Are they? I’m curious. Bane, of all people?_

_Either way, then there’s the matter of Simon, the son of the house. He’s my age, and seemingly close with Maia – it would be quite the adorable sight, if it weren’t for the monster we call jealousy. Whom am I jealous of? Well, as it stands, it would seem that both of them._

_This is the trouble I find myself in. How do I explain this conundrum to them? Do I explain it at all? I feel something must be done, as this issue claws at my chest day and night and refuses to leave me alone. If those rumours be true, I feel you’re the more experienced out of the two of us when it comes to navigating feelings like this – and if they are not true, I should expect you to still be a clever man and figure an answer out for me._

_If those rumours are not true, and you find yourself despising me because of these feelings I am having, then do not bother replying at all. I doubt this, though._

_Looking forward to your reply, and anxiously awaiting advice,_

_Jace_

 

Alec stared at the letter with a dismayed frown. He folded it shut and threw it into the flames of his fireplace, watching the fire swallow the paper whole and drown it until there wasn’t a trace of it left.

What had Jace been thinking, writing a letter like that in times like these? He must’ve known it to be dangerous – he’d said as much in his opening paragraph. Was it only that he did not care, then?

Words were a dangerous weapon. Words were proof, and proof was all that was needed to send them both to gaol, if someone were to persecute. Alec couldn’t afford a single misstep, not in times like this when he was so close to having everything he’d ever dreamed of.

He penned a response that same evening, biting his lip bloody thinking of what to say.

 

_22 nd of June 1898_

_Jace,_

_It was good to hear from you, but please refrain from writing with such openness in the future. We’re both better off that way. Trust me on this._

_When it comes to what you’ve heard, it is quite true. I cannot discuss it here, but the next time we meet – when are you coming back to London? – I ought to explain the entire situation to you. It is an interesting tale, I think._

_As for your… conundrum. I think it were best you be honest. Perhaps explain it to both of them in private, so as to ensure that you may have a proper conversation regarding the issue. If they do not understand – as there is always a likelihood of that – then you’ve done all that you could, and should feel marginally at ease over the whole ordeal._

_I wish you the best of luck in your endeavours,_

_Alexander_

He put his pen down, and skimmed over the page a few times. It wasn’t likely to get him in trouble if it fell into the wrong hands – it might arouse curiosity, but nothing more.

Alec sighed, slumping heavily against his chair. Why was his life this difficult? Why was it that he had to hide behind false words and half-truths, never existing as himself in the public eye? They called him a deviant – a gross indecency. Perhaps there was nothing indecent about him. Perhaps it was them that were in the wrong.

No one talked of it. That had been the problem, for Alec, as he’d been trying to figure out why it was that whenever his father spoke of his future wife, he felt queasy and unsettled. No one spoke of an option. No one told him that there were people who weren’t like that, people who loved differently.

It wasn’t until he’d been eighteen that there’d been the first inkling of a different kind of life. It had been a talk on the streets, hushed whispers and rumours. Of Lord Alfred and Oscar Wilde. And others, too, writers and artists and other such things.

It was then, even without knowing anything else, that Alec had known he wasn’t alone. And that had been enough to keep him going, despite some of his darker thoughts telling him otherwise.

And then, of course, he’d met Magnus. It had been at a party, some boring social mingling or another, but Magnus had caught his attention. He’d been charming, and funny, and beautiful – Alec hadn’t been able to keep his eyes off him, and at the end of the evening, as the guests had all piled out, he’d followed him to a secluded alley.

Alec still recalled the taste of his lips and the moon shining down on them, like a quiet spotlight.

It was dangerous, certainly. This thing they kept. Eventually, someone would do more than ask discrete questions. But Alec hoped that by the time that happened, they’d be living in peace in the countryside, with their love and freedom and each other.

He sealed the letter and crossed his heart that it would find Jace with no further trouble.

 

*

 

It was a few days later that Alec was having Magnus over for tea when he heard a knock on his front door, and froze. They both glanced at each other over the table, two nervous pairs of eyes meeting. Alec set his cup down slowly, and stood up. His stomach felt pitless.

“It’s probably nothing,” he said, not sure who it was he was trying to reassure. “And even if it is something, you’re only here as my friend, enjoying Earl Gray. There are no laws against having tea.”

“Quite,” Magnus agreed, but he looked on edge. “I’ll wait here.”

When Alec opened the door, he was greeted by a smiling Isabelle. The knot in his chest eased at once, and he let out the breath he’d been holding. He stepped aside to let her in. “You should have let me know in advance you were coming,” Alec said, taking her overcoat. He noticed the slight tremble of his fingers. “I have someone over.”

“Oh?” Isabelle asked, looking back towards him curiously. “Your… other interest?”

“Please,” Alec said as an answer, “try not to embarrass either of us any more than is necessary.”

Her lips curled into a smirk. “I’m so glad you did not define what falls underneath ‘necessary’,” she said, and before Alec could stop her, she was fluttering towards the living room.

“Do you want tea?” He called after her, striding to match her pace. “Biscuits? Scones?”

“No,” she called back, and then, “oh.”

Alec found her standing by the entrance to the living room, staring at Magnus. Magnus stared back, one brow tilted up, half a challenge and half a curiosity. It was an expression Alec liked on him, generally – it wasn’t an expression he particularly liked now, when the last thing he wanted was a confrontation.

He stepped between them, gesturing vaguely with his hands. “Magnus, this is my sister, Isabelle,” he said. “Isabelle, this is Magnus, my…” His mind stuttered, trying to come up with an expression fitting enough to encompass all he felt towards Magnus.

Isabelle smiled knowingly. “Your other interest,” she supplied. “The mysterious lover.”

Magnus’ expression changed marginally as his eyes slid over to Alec. “You’ve mentioned me, darling?”

Alec shrugged. “Here and there,” he mumbled, mostly towards his shoes. They needed polishing. “And only recently. I didn’t want to cause a scene for naught, if this hadn’t…” He licked his lips. “Worked out.”

“Oh, Alec,” Isabelle sighed. She moved to sit on the armchair previously occupied by Alec, and took his tea cup. “You ought to have caused a scene, I think. He seems well worth causing a scene over.”

Which wasn’t what Alec wanted to hear from his sister, truth be told, nor in the tone she said it with – like melted butter, smooth and silky. “Right,” he said curtly. “Now that the introductions are over and done with, why is it that you’ve come here today?”

“Sit down,” she said in lieu of an actual response. “You’re making me nervous, standing over there.”

Alec obliged, if only because now that Isabelle had occupied the only armchair, he had no choice but to sit next to Magnus. Their arms brushed against each other; Alec felt a sparkle of electricity travel up his spine as Magnus discretely wrapped his pinkie finger around Alec’s.

Isabelle eyed them knowingly, but said nothing of it. “Father send me,” she said, and as Alec stiffened, she hastened to add, “it’s about the wedding.”

This did nothing to lessen Alec’s worries. The warmth of Magnus’ skin kept him grounded in the moment, like an anchor in a stormy sea. “The wedding,” he echoed blankly. “What of it? He should have no cause for concern. I told him all that is necessary.”

“He worries over Clary’s family,” Isabelle told them. “It’s the illness, taking over his brain and rotting it empty. At least, I think so. Gives him bouts of paranoia and such. Now he fears that the Fray name isn’t good enough, or some such thing. I told him I’d come talk to you, to ease his conscience, but there’s nothing for you to worry about. Proceed with the wedding, and he’ll forget this in a few days.”

Magnus’ mouth pulled into a frown. “Alexander told me of his condition,” he said, “but I didn’t realise it was this serious. How long…” He paused, glancing briefly at Alec before his eyes returned to Isabelle. “How long does he have, at this rate?”

She shrugged eloquently. “Half a year, maybe less. It is difficult for me to estimate properly – all I have is my books, and no formal education. But in any case, it seems yours will be a very short marriage, indeed.”

Alec didn’t hold much affection towards Robert, but to hear it so bluntly – half a year, maybe less – he suddenly felt like time was running out too fast. Was this how Maryse felt, too, trying to piece a sinking ship together as water flooded in from each hole?

What would she turn into, in the absence of Robert, he wondered. What would any of them? For all his faults, he’d been efficiently keeping their family together for well over twenty years now. None of them knew what time after Robert looked like. They would, soon.

“Right,” he said weakly. “Well, all the better, when—” He cut himself off. Magnus didn’t need to know that Alec would’ve gladly taken him for a husband, instead. “Mother will be disappointed,” he finished.

“She will,” Isabelle agreed. “But it’s not her you’re living for, is it?”

Alec used to not know what it was he was living for, precisely. He used to flounder in the dark, confused by life and people and most of all himself, his odd mind and thoughts and _feelings_. Maryse had pronounced there was a deep melancholy within him. Robert had scoffed, and said he needed to grow up.

That melancholy still resided within his mind, but he’d learned to live with it. It was an annoyance, and sometimes more than that, but there was scarcely nothing he could do about it. And at least now he knew what to life for. That there was something to live for.

“No,” he said in agreement, risking a quick glance in Magnus’ direction. “I’m not.”

Isabelle smiled indulgently. “I’ll tell Clary you’re as ecstatic about the length of your marriage as she is.”

“How is Ms. Fray?” Magnus asked, and Alec thought he’d have made a better faux husband – he himself hadn’t even considered his wife-to-be’s thoughts in days.

Isabelle looked positively radiant at the mention of her. Alec hoped he didn’t look as sickeningly in love when Magnus was around, but he feared he did. “She’s well,” Isabelle said. “She’s less than enthused about the wedding, as no doubt are you two, but she’s being very rational about it all.” She looked a little dreamy. “I do love her mind, sometimes.”

“I’m certain,” Alec said wryly, “that it is her mind that you love.”

Isabelle tilted her head. “And her ability to undo my corset in no less than ten seconds.”

Magnus choked on his tea.

Alec felt oddly at home.

 

*

 

Jace came back from the Lewis manor bubbly and excited and _happy_. It was an early evening when he appeared behind Alec’s door, grinning from ear to ear and looking so damn bright that Alec had to, for a brief second, wonder if perhaps someone had cloned his brother and injected some radiance into him.

“Alec,” he greeted, excitedly. The street behind was foggy and desolate, and Alec felt the evening coldness seeping into his skin. “Do you have anyone over? Can I come in?”

Alec did not have anyone over. Magnus had left some hours earlier to tend to his store, and Alec was somewhat lacking in the department of friends. Not that he needed any – he had his siblings, and Magnus, and by proxy he knew their friends and acquaintances – and that, he thought, was enough.

So, he let Jace in.

“Tea?” Alec asked out of reflex as he took Jace’s coat. “I’m afraid I don’t have much else.”

But Jace declined, claiming he was too excited to eat or drink a thing. He danced his way into the living room and, in a way very becoming of him but unbecoming of someone who regularly claimed to be a gentleman, flopped down on the sofa, lying on his backside with his feet hanging over the edge of the armrest.

Alec, who still thought himself capable of manners, sat on his armchair and crossed his arms, eyes squinted towards Jace. He was still smiling widely, as if his lips were malfunctioning and didn’t know how to move downwards, anymore. Alec had seen his brother happy before – or, he’d seen his brother pretending to be happy, before. He’d seen Jace put on a persona for years, and had grown used to it; if it was the way he wanted to cope with being at odds with the world and everyone in it, then so be it.

He didn’t seem to be acting, now.

“So,” Alec started, not sure where to begin. “You’re back.”

“It would certainly seem so,” Jace replied, “though my heart remains elsewhere.”

Which was precisely the last thing Alec would have ever expected to hear from him. Jace didn’t, by nature, involve himself in romance or heartfelt poetry. He’d exclaimed so often, and loud, and to anyone who would listen – Jace Lightwood was a free man till the day he’d be dust. There wasn’t a single woman in all of London to tame his rogue nature, he’d said.

Well. Perhaps not in London, and perhaps not only a woman.

“Does it, now?” Alec asked. “I’m dying of curiosity – you haven’t sent a letter since the first one. What happened? I assume from your…” He looked Jace over critically. “ _Mannerisms_ , that all went well.”

Jace sighed wistfully, staring up at the ceiling. “Oh, why did no one ever tell me that love felt this fine?” He asked, clearly not looking for an answer. “Yes, it went well. I’ll tell you the whole bloody tale, if you’ll give me a minute to compose myself.”

Alec did give him a minute, and then some, as he made himself a cup of tea and slipped a hint of brandy in it. It was disconcerting, seeing his brother like this. It was, he thought vaguely, not as bad as it had been with Isabelle, when she’d met Clary. That had been quite insufferable, indeed.

She’d come over to show Alec the letters she was writing her, and he’d assured her, time and again, day and day, that they were very fine letters indeed, and that there wasn’t a single embarrassing thing in them – though, of course, there had been plenty. And then, in the end, half of them had ended up in the fireplace, regardless.

Love was a curious thing. Alec was glad to have experienced it first-hand. Perhaps he ought to start tormenting his siblings in a similar manner as they tormented him. He could start by listing them his favourite things about Magnus, starting from the way he said Alec’s name to how he liked to have his tea with milk and no sugar, and onwards to things Alec was a little embarrassed to have made note of, much less actively remember, like the way he usually began yawning by eleven and the smell of his shoe polish.

Alec returned to the living room with his spiked tea and sat back down. Jace hadn’t moved an inch, but his other hand was dramatically grazing the floor and the other one was flung across his closed eyes.

“I’ve given you a minute,” Alec said. “I was promised a tale.”

Jace’s lips curled into a deeper smile, if it were even possible. “Yes,” he said. “Well, this all starts from over a year ago, when I happened to stumble upon a game of cards and, by mischance, placed my bets on the table. It so turns out that I was very unfortunate that night, and lost a considerable sum of money. Of course, I quickly remedied this the following night, as I won back all my money – and then lost it all, and gained it back, and lost it all over again.”

Alec sipped his tea. “I’m sensing a pattern. Let me take a guess – this part of the story does not end with you walking away once and for all with all your money on your person.”

Jace shrugged. “You know me so well. One night, I won a considerable sum of money – fair and square, but there was a gentleman who took me for a liar. Needless to say, I parted with the money quite soon, and not by my own will.”

“Of course not,” Alec agreed. “And after you were robbed, father send you away?”

“Oh, no,” Jace said. “After that came the opium dens – and after _that_ , yes, he thought I was better off elsewhere for a while. So, Isabelle says she knows this girl, who knows this boy, whose mother is quite rich, indeed, and just so happens to foster some wayward youngsters in her manor. What a delightful coincidence, we all said, and thus I was sent to the Lewis manor.

“This manor was not the most impressive, I’ll say, and at first I thought the whole situation loathsome, as you might imagine. I spent my days sulking in my room and wishing I was back in London, until one day, I meet this girl. The most beautiful thing, and sharp, too – has wit enough for the both of us. Well, you know me – I don’t easily fall for anyone, and consider myself free of these attachments. I ignored these festering feelings for some time.

“It was then I was introduced to Simon Lewis, who’d come back from travels. He’s a lumbering mess of nerves, and often says the wrong thing at the wrong time and can’t tell left from right under pressure – but there was something about him that I thought… well, he caught my interest, certainly.”

“Allow me to guess,” Alec said wryly. “You continued to ignore these _festering feelings_ until it became impossible and your only option was to write to _me_ for advice.”

Jace cracked one eye open, and looked at Alec. “I’d heard of your situation,” he said. “I thought, who better to help me than you?”

 _Anyone else_ , Alec thought. Out loud, he said, “And you followed my advice?”

Jace’s eye fell shut again. “Oh, yes. I had a conversation with the both of them – a long and difficult conversation. In the end, we decided we might give it a try. Maia and Simon will remain at the manor for a while, now, and perhaps get married – and then we’ll get a house, somewhere where no one might question us, and I’ll remain a happy bachelor to the rest of the world.”

It was a good plan, if nothing else. It might even work. Alec hoped it would – disconcerting or not, it was good to see Jace happy for once. “And does Isabelle know?” Alec asked.

“Yes,” Jace said. “I told her this same tale when I arrived this morning. She asked a lot more questions than you.”

“I would imagine so,” Alec agreed. He downed the rest of his tea, and set the cup on the table. “Well, I am glad for you. You seem happy.”

“I am,” Jace said. He sighed contently, and slowly sat up, eyeing Alec. “Your turn. Tell me all there is to know about Magnus Bane and you.”

So, Alec did.

Thought not _everything_. There were some things better left unmentioned, after all.

 

*

 

Magnus’ store was intriguing. That was the closest word Alec could think of for it. Intriguing in the sense that there was always something simmering beneath a corner, always a sense of excitement and danger in the air, always a feeling that at any given moment, something might happen.

Alec never knew what that something could be. He’d grown fond of surprises.

He tried to make it a habit to visit often, not only because he thought the store was homely and nice, but because it was Magnus’. There were little hints of him everywhere inside – in the carefully written cursive labels and the shiny gemstones that he polished every Saturday and Sunday in his house and the jars of herbs he sometimes let Alec mix with him.

In a way, then, there was a little bit of Alec in the store, too. Not too much, but a tiny speckle – which made Alec feel as though he was carefully interluded with Magnus, like their lives were so beautifully intertwined that it would’ve been difficult to pry them apart.

It was a pleasant thought.

Alec’s favourite place to be in the store was a folded chair in the corner behind the counter. He sat there, like a silent ghost, and watched over the store and the customers alike, quietly observant. Most people paid him no mind, some gave him a curious glance before letting their eyes slide over him and towards something arguably more exciting.

Some people stared at him, and frowned, and Alec could almost picture them thinking, _Who is he? Why is he there?_

He wished he could’ve answered their unasked questions. He wished he could’ve said, “I’m here because I happen to be in love with the store owner, and so far, he hasn’t objected to my presence in this uncomfortable chair, in this very comfortable corner, where I’ll continue to sit until he tells me that it won’t do, anymore.”

But he couldn’t. So, he didn’t, and eventually, their frowns dissipated and they let go and forgot.

Today had been a slow day, slower than usual. Magnus kept him company, sitting behind the counter with his fingers crossed on his chest as he lounged back on his chair, feet laid on top of the desk. He made looking carefree look easy.

“Ten pounds you can’t guess what’s on my mind,” Alec said, throwing a small rice-filled ball at him.

Magnus caught it with one hand. “Twenty I can,” he countered. He threw the ball back at him, deliberately letting it curve a little.

“Okay,” Alec said, because he knew a good bet when he heard one. “You get three guesses, and then I’ll tell you.”

Magnus looked considerate. “One,” he started, catching the ball again as Alec threw it at him. “Your father.”

“Not even close,” Alec said, shivering a little. “The less time I spend pondering over him the better. He sent another letter, you know – asked me whether the wedding planning was going well.”

Magnus raised an amused brow. “Is it?”

“I’m letting other people take care of everything,” Alec admitted. “I don’t particularly care what the colour scheme is at a wedding I don’t even wish to attend. Which reminds me – do you want an invite? Or will it be too…”

“Awkward?” Magnus supplied, smiling. “Not at all. I shall think of the softness of your lips the entire service, and pray the others think my besotted grin is caused by my deep, deep happiness for you.”

“Deep happiness, indeed,” Alec laughed. “Guess again. You have two tries left.”

“I do wish you happiness,” Magnus argued, “only, I’d rather it be with me.” He paused, and began to jiggle the ball in his hands, adding a few new ones into the mix until he was spinning three of them in the air at ease. “What could you be thinking about, I wonder. My ravishing looks?”

Alec thought about that a lot, granted. Each time he saw Magnus he was a little more astonished as to just how handsome he was. It was a little unfair. “No,” he said aloud, “but that was a good one.”

Magnus pouted a little. “Final guess,” he said. “You’re thinking about considering letting me glimpse into your future, to see how your mother will react to the news of us.”

Alec stared at him, stunned to silence. “That was—how did you know? And to such a specific degree, too?”

The smile that appeared on Magnus’ lips was positively devilish. “Almost as though I’m a warlock of some kind,” he mused. One by one, he let the balls fly back to the counter, all in a neat, impeccable row. He turned to look at Alec. “You owe me twenty, you do realise. And for what it’s worth, I do not think there’s any harm in looking into the future for guidance.”

There wasn’t, in theory. Alec had been mulling the thought over in his head for a few days, now, and he seemed no closer to a real answer than he’d been when Magnus had first proposed the idea. He wasn’t overly eager to know what the future held – it could be something good. It could just as well be something devastating.

Reluctantly, he handed twenty pounds over to a self-satisfied Magnus. “If it was something bad,” he said slowly, his eyes trained somewhere on the shelves behind Magnus’ left shoulder, “something truly bad – would you still tell me?”

“I’ve never been dishonest with you, Alexander,” Magnus said. “I do not intend to start being so, now. Nor do I think you so fragile as to need protection from something like that. Whatever it is that I see, it is only one chance in a dozen for it to be the truth.”

Alec bit his lower lip, considering. Would it loosen the tight knot in his chest, to do this? Perhaps. He’d spent sleepless nights worrying over what Maryse would think, say, do. It might be this could put his restless mind at ease, for a while, at least.

“How would you go about it?” He asked, sliding his eyes over to Magnus’. “The looking, I mean.”

Magnus met his gaze evenly. “All it takes is a bit of reaching,” he told Alec. “I close my eyes, and concentrate, and something comes to me. You will have to be silent until I tell you otherwise.”

Alec raised a brow. “Now?”

Magnus shrugged. “It is a quiet evening,” he said, gazing around the empty store. “I see no reason not to, if you are ready.”

Alec wasn’t, not truly. But he didn’t think he’d ever be, so he said, “I am.”

In an instant Magnus let his lids falter shut, and Alec fell silent. For a while, nothing happened. They sat alone in the store, Alec staring intently at Magnus, looking for a sign of any kind. His mind began racing, against his own will – scenarios of what it could be Magnus was seeing, poisonous words and accusations ringing inside his head.

After a few minutes, Magnus opened his eyes, slowly, and looked at Alec, expressionless.

“Well?” Alec urged, leaning forward without noticing.

Magnus’ face broke into a small smile. “There is a likelihood she will forget,” he said. “There is, as well, a likelihood she will not be surprised. And there is a likelihood she will guess, before you can tell her. That’s all I’ve seen. There are other paths, as well, that I did not explore.”

Alec blinked. His thudding heart calmed down, a little. “That does not sound too bad,” he said, surprised.

“No,” Magnus agreed. “But do not get your hopes raised too much, please. I worry for you, still.”

 _Too late_ , Alec thought. So, it might be it would be fine. That perhaps she knew already. But then why would she agree to the idea of the wedding so eagerly? Was it that she knew, and wished it were differently? Discomfort clawed at his chest. “Thank you,” he said. “For looking.”

Magnus looked concerned. “You will be alright,” he said decidedly. “Even if it goes poorly, you will be alright. You…” He paused, as if weighing his words. “There are your siblings, still. And me, I suppose.”

The discomfort diminished as a surge of affection swelled in its place. “Yes,” Alec agreed. He had the sudden urge to be closer. “There is you. There is—I’m very grateful. For you, I mean. Us. It is… it has brought me a lot closer to life.”

Magnus didn’t ask him to elaborate or explain – Alec knew that he knew what he meant. Sometimes he thought Magnus understood him better than he understood himself.

“Me, too,” Magnus said quietly.

Neither of them said anything, after that.

There was no need for words.

 

*

 

Clary threw a card on the table, and frowned deeply. “Is that good?” She asked, turning towards Isabelle, who was quietly shaking from laughter.

“Darling,” she said, staring at the four of clubs, “dearest, that is a terrible, terrible card.”

“Terrible?” Clary echoed, eyes flitting back towards the card. “Truly?”

Alec shook his head quietly. “Terrible,” he confirmed. “If it were a five of clubs, it would’ve scored you twenty points, or even three of clubs, which would’ve given you fifteen. But a four of clubs? I’m afraid you’ll have to subtract thirty points from your total.”

“Thirty,” Clary said, looking sour. She turned towards the piece of paper where she’d been keeping tab of her points. “But that leaves me at a hundred and fifty in total.”

Alec, who had two hundred and twenty points, smiled. “Tragic,” he said. He leaned to his right to look at Magnus’ paper, scanning his neat handwriting. “Oh, look, I think you’re winning.”

“I’m ecstatic, dear,” Magnus said, not sounding very ecstatic at all. “What was it that we were playing for, again?”

Isabelle was eyeing her cards intensely. “For the satisfaction of winning this ridiculous game,” she supplied. “And there’s a bottle of wine somewhere in the cellar that I know for a fact Clary has not, and will not, touch. I suppose that could be a prize, too.”

Looking appropriately smug, she slapped a queen of hearts on the table, and Alec groaned.

“Fifty points,” he lamented. He looked at his own cards, and found them lacking. “That will put you at the lead, with Magnus a few points behind you.” He glanced at Magnus. “Will you win, for us?”

Magnus smiled indulgently. “I’ll admit I still don’t understand these rules,” he said, “but I shall try, love.”

“You two are sickeningly sweet,” Isabelle commented, scribbling her new points in.

“You are in no position to judge us,” Alec retorted. “Miss she-can-undo-my-corset-in-ten-seconds.”

Clary flushed a little, hiding herself behind her stack of cards. “You didn’t tell them that, did you?” She asked, biting her lip.

Isabelle glanced at her with a smirk. “And why shouldn’t I? It’s true all the same. You have _very_ nimble fingers.”

“I beg of you,” Alec interjected, hoping he looked as pained as he felt, “stop.”

The amused look Isabelle gave him was one only achievable for siblings, Alec felt, for the amount of pure annoyance she injected into it. He pulled a face at her in return, wishing he could’ve splashed his glass of gin tonic to her face.

They played a few more rounds, with Clary steadily playing all the worst cards whilst Magnus seemed to score point after point. He and Isabelle were alternatively at the lead. Alec was cheering for Magnus, if not for the fact of their relationship then to wipe the self-satisfied grin off Isabelle’s face.

He loved her dearly, he did. But she was his sister, after all. And sometimes, that was simply how things were – sometimes, you had to wish that the love of your life beat your smug sister in a game of cards, the rules of which had been made up drunk three years past.

In the end, Magnus did win – by one point.

“That’s not fair,” Isabelle complained, throwing the rest of her cards on the table. “ _One_ point.”

Alec grinned at her. “We’ll be collecting that bottle of wine soon,” he announced. “Thank you very much in advance, I’m sure it will be lovely to have over dinner.”

“Will you cook?” Magnus asked offhandedly.

“This Sunday?” Alec asked in return.

“As per usual,” Magnus agreed.

Isabelle looked at them with a disbelieving expression. “You have _routines_ ,” she said, as if having routines was the oddest thing in the world. “How is it that you’re marrying Clary and not him, pray tell?”

 _An excellent question_ , Alec thought, but since he hadn’t mentioned his silent musings to Magnus yet – because what was the right time, truly, to blurt out that he would’ve married him if possible – he said, “I hear there will be roses at the wedding.”

Clary looked unamused. “Yes,” she said. “Roses, and lilies, and a dozen other flowers that are a complete waste of money.”

“This wedding seems like such a happy occasion,” Magnus commented.

Alec couldn’t help the laughter bubbling in his chest. “It is quite ridiculous,” he said. “This whole farce. Imagine the ceremony itself – I’ll either burst into laughter or run away in panic.”

Clary joined his laughter, leaning against Isabelle. She looked content, there. “Both are acceptable courses of action,” she told him. “Please feel free to run away all you want.”

“I’ll be there to catch you,” Magnus said, like a promise, and Alec’s heart felt free and happy and in love all at once.

 

*

 

 _Father wants to see you and Clary_ , the hastily written letter said. It had arrived a day before, and Alec had been re-reading it ever since. _3 rd of July, at our house. DON’T _– it was aggressively underlined – _bring M. No need to cause trouble._

Alec rolled the piece of paper over in his hand, before discarding it on the bedside table. He stared up at the ceiling, frowning. Why would Robert want to see them together? Why now? Had something happened, had someone talked – though who it could’ve been, he didn’t know.

Next to him, Magnus shifted in his sleep. As Alec glanced at him, he cracked one eye open and peered at Alec in the dark.

“I can feel you worrying,” he muttered half into his pillow. “What is it?”

Alec looked away, sighing softly. “Father,” he said quietly. Every noise felt like a boom in the otherwise silent house. “He wants for me and Clary to visit. For what reason, I can’t fathom.”

Magnus reached out to intertwine their fingers, and Alec’s heartbeat calmed down, slowly. “Most likely he’s only curious,” he said in a reassuring tone. “He’s never met Clary, yes? If I had a son about to be wed to a girl I’d never so much as seen, I think I’d be curious, as well.”

“Perhaps,” Alec agreed. Another thought crossed his mind, persistent despite its irrelevance. “Would you ever want children?”

“Me?” Magnus hummed thoughtfully. “I’ve never given it a thought. Maybe. Though how that would come about, I don’t know. It seems like an impossibility, right now.”

The snakes returned to Alec’s stomach, slithering and nibbling. He blinked at the ceiling, not willing to meet Magnus’ eyes. “Because of me?” He asked, despite knowing the answer.

“Well, that certainly is a part of it,” Magnus allowed. Yet he didn’t sound mad. “But even if I was not with you, I’d have to find an eligible wife, and even then, it would take some time and effort that I do not see myself investing in, right now. So, do not blame yourself. I can hear the guilt churning in you.”

Alec smiled, despite himself. “I wasn’t blaming myself,” he said, but even to his own ears he didn’t sound very convincing. He fell silent for a moment. “Would you ever want to get married, then?”

“What’s with all these curious questions?” Magnus asked, amused. “Would I ever want a wife? Perhaps. There was a lady once I was very intent on marrying, before she revealed herself to be… not quite what I had thought her to be. But none of that matters, now.”

“Because of me?” Alec asked again, this time hoping for a _yes_.

Magnus gave him what he hoped for. “Yes,” he said. “Because of you. I hope you know, dear, that I’m very serious about this. The two of us, that is.”

“I know,” Alec promised. “Me, too. I would…” He paused. “This may sound ridiculous, but I’d much rather have you for a husband than Clary for a wife, would that it were conceivably possible.”

“You’re such a romantic,” Magnus said. Alec looked for a hint of malice in his tone, and found none. They lay in silence for a while, before Magnus continued. “I wish you didn’t have to marry her. I wish your father would write you in his will already, instead of waiting until after the wedding.”

“He’s being persistent about it,” Alec said. “It’s very grating.”

“Yes,” Magnus agreed. “When are you going to visit, then? With Clary.”

“Today,” Alec said. “In the evening.” He paused. “It’s unnerving.”

“Meeting your father?”

“Not knowing what he wants.”

“Ah.” Magnus squeezed his hand, comfortingly. “Like I said, he’s probably only curious. But if it something else – if it something serious – then I’m still certain you will be able to handle it. You’re a lot like me, in that way. Resilient, I mean.”

Alec didn’t think so, but he was glad of the compliment. “Thank you. I only hope it will go by smoothly.” He sighed again, and turned to his side, facing Magnus. He looked beautiful, even in the dim light and with sleep dragging at his eyes. “Have I ever mentioned that you’re angelic to look at?”

“Mmh,” Magnus hummed, shuffling closer. “A few times. I imagine you often tell that to the mirror, as well.”

Alec huffed in laughter. “Do be quiet.”

“Quiet?” Magnus asked. “I’d much rather not.”

Alec leaned closer, pressing kisses along his neck and jawline, and up to his mouth, letting his hands wander.

Magnus smiled against his lips. “Upon second thought,” he mumbled, “I might be persuaded to reconsider.”

 

*

 

Clary looked distinctly as uncomfortable as Alec did as they stood in the Lightwood house’s entrance hall, their arms barely touching. She’d chosen to wear her hair down, which Alec thought was a mistake – Robert appreciated all things neat and proper, and old-fashioned. But her choice of dress was good, as were her manners, so Alec did not think it possible for Robert to start nagging about her bloody hair tonight.

Then, he did little else but nag.

“I’m sorry about this,” Alec whispered as he took Clary’s overcoat and hung it on the rack.

“No need,” she whispered back. “Family can be—”

“Alexander!” Maryse said cheerfully from where she’d appeared by the doorway. She was smiling brightly at the both of them. “And Clarissa.”

Clary looked a little like a deer caught in headlights, and Alec nudged at her with his elbow. She forced herself to smile politely, quickly wrapping her arm around Alec’s. “Hello, Mrs. Lightwood,” she said. “I mean, good night. Evening.”

Alec felt his own face stretch into a similarly pained smile. “Hello, mother,” he said. “Where’s father?”

Maryse looked vaguely uncomfortable, but the moment passed quickly. “He’s going over the books,” she said. “He’ll be down, soon. Why don’t we have some tea, in the mean time?”

“Oh, there’s no need to make any for me,” Clary said, at the same time as Alec said, “We’d love to.”

Maryse eyed them both, amused. “Already quarrelling, and you’re not even wed yet,” she said, smiling. “Into the living room, both of you.”

Alec was beginning to feel his skin crawl. He wasn’t sure why it was – he’d been pretending to be in love with Clary for nearly a month now, and she was a nice girl, besides – nothing had changed. But it felt different, to be here with her and to have to act in front of his mother, than it was to verbally reassure them that he was, indeed, the son they wanted him to be.

They sat next to each other on the living room couch, probably too far apart but Alec didn’t particularly care to fix the situation. Clary was fiddling with the hem of her skirts, and Alec wondered if she felt as unnerved as he did.

Maryse returned with a tray, and set it on the table. She sat down with her own cup, smiling, still.

“It is so nice to see you here, Clary,” she said warmly. “I thought Alec might never marry – he’s always been so disinterested in romance.”

Alec could feel his shoulders tensing. “Yes,” he said. “It only took meeting the right person.”

“Oh, I’m the same,” Clary laughed. It sounded false, like wind chimes, and not her usual hearty laughter. “I was supposed to marry Simon – um, Lewis – it was what my mother had intended. But that never came to be, and instead I found – someone else.”

“Alexander,” Maryse filled in, falsely. “Of course. How long has this been going on, then?”

Alec turned to look at Clary. They both realised, at the same time, that they had not thought of a backstory for themselves. Brief panic flickered in Clary’s eyes.

“For a year,” Alec said, hesitantly turning back to his mother. “We met at a… at a party.”

“Yes,” Clary agreed weakly. “Mrs. Brannigan’s,” she said.

“Mrs. Keller’s,” said Alec.

Maryse stared at them both blankly. Then she smiled again. “I imagine you were too enamoured to recall who’s party it was,” she said. “I remember what that feels like all too well. How—”

But she was interrupted by the creaking of the stairs. As Robert stepped into the room, Alec could feel Clary tense beside him. He swallowed air. The wedding was a week away, he reminded himself. Robert only needed to buy their act now and then, and then they’d be free.

Unless he wanted to see them again. Alec tried not to think about it.

“Ms. Fray,” Robert said flatly, nodding towards her. His eyes slid over to Alec, cold and unimpressed as always. He smiled, but it looked bitter. “Alexander.”

Clary stuttered a little. “Evening, Mr. Lightwood,” she managed. She giggled nervously. “Excuse me, I’ve never met the parents of my partner before. It’s very… exciting.”

“She’s been talking about how lovely it is to meet the both of you for weeks, now,” Alec lied. “It is good that you invited us over.”

“Yes,” Robert said. He’d sat down next to Maryse, without touching his tea. He was scowling. “I had to see it for myself.”

Alec felt cold sweat trickling down his spine. “See what?” He asked, reaching for one of the cups on the tray. If he was drinking, he couldn’t blurt out anything incriminating or stupid. His fingers were trembling lightly.

“The happy couple, of course,” Robert said. He tilted his head towards the staircase. “Isabelle,” he called out. “Come and say hello to your brother’s fiancé.”

Clary shot Alec another panicked look. He sipped his tea desperately; it burned down his throat. “I’m sure Isabelle is tired,” he tried. “I’m sure—”

“No,” Robert cut in. “I want her to come down here. Isabelle!”

She appeared a few minutes later. The passive look she gave to Alec and Clary was almost believable, but Alec saw the flicker of emotion through the surface.

Robert didn’t. “What’s the matter with you?” He demanded, frowning deeply. “Greet them properly, and sit down for a cuppa.”

“Of course, father,” she said. Alec heard the tension in her voice. She turned to smile at them dimly. “Hello, Alec. And Cl—Ms. Fray. Clarissa.”

They both mumbled their replies back, and Isabelle took her seat beside Clary, keeping a respectable distance.

Robert considered the three of them with a dark look. “None of you look happy,” he observed. “Why is that?”

Alec forced a smile on his face, and discretely kicked Clary on the shins behind the cover of the table. “We’re only nervous,” he said. “We’re not sure why it is you’ve summoned us here, father.”

“Yes,” Clary agreed. From the corner of his eye, Alec could see her smile, too. “Or was this only a courtesy call?”

Finally, Robert took a cup of now lukewarm tea in his hands, and sipped it. He was staring into the dark brown liquid with a blank expression. “I wanted to tell you this in person,” he said. “And I needed to… make sure of something.”

Alec swallowed more tea. “Tell us what?” He didn’t dare ask what it was that he’d needed to make sure of.

“I won’t be able to attend your wedding,” Robert said, matter-of-factly. “My doctor told me that…” He glanced at Maryse, who nodded sadly. Alec frowned. Robert continued. “My doctor told me that I don’t have that much time, anymore.”

Alec’s heart stuttered to a brief stop, and his stomach dropped. The world seemed to slow down for the briefest of moments, as it narrowed down to their living room, and Robert’s words. Alec had to set his cup down on the table, or else he would’ve dropped it. He felt cold all over. “You don’t?” He asked, his voice cracking a little. He glanced at Isabelle, who looked as shell-shocked as he was.

“No,” Robert said. He was clenching his tea cup tighter than necessary. “I’ve written you as my beneficiary in the will. You will keep the company, as well. The document has been signed, already.”

Alec’s throat felt parched. “But—I thought there were months, still,” he said, trying to grasp the situation at hand. He felt the desperate need to stand up and run away, run until his legs ached and his lungs burst and he could collapse into nothing. “Isabelle said—”

“Isabelle is not a doctor,” Robert said sternly. His eyes softened as he looked over at her. “I’m sorry, darling. I’ve masked you of the worst symptoms. I thought it might make things easier – I see it has not.”

Quiet tears were streaming down Isabelle’s face – she wiped them off with the back of her hand. Clary looked desperate to reach out for her. “I understand,” Isabelle said. Her voice was steady.

“Why—” Alec cut himself off, adamantly staring at the corner of the table. “How long?” He asked.

“How long what?”

“How long have you known?” Alec demanded. “That you’ll die soon.”

“Alec—” Maryse started saying, her voice gentle, but she was cut off by Robert.

“A few weeks,” he said.

 _A few weeks_. And he hadn’t said a word. Neither had Maryse. Alec’s hands curled into fists. He wanted to hit something, or someone, anything.

“And you thought it best to hold your silence?” He said, looking up at him. “That it was better to not tell us at all until now? Why? Did we not deserve to know?”

Robert held his gaze, unwavering. “I did not want to ruin our remaining time,” he explained. “I didn’t want your image of me to be tainted—”

“It already _is_ ,” Alec shouted. He didn’t realise he’d moved until he was standing up, towering above Robert like a looming shadow. He breathed heavily. “All our lives, you’ve done nothing but work. Work here, and work there – everywhere, it was _always_ about work, never about your own bloody family. You never stopped to consider that we were people, too, and that maybe we missed you – maybe we wanted to care for you. Maybe there was something else in your life except work and being a demeaning, horrible person—”

“Alec,” Maryse tried again, forcefully this time.

“—And I see nothing has changed. You’re still the same selfish bastard as you’ve always been, and a blind one at that, to not see what was right beneath your nose—”

“ _Alec._ ” This time, it came from Isabelle. She reached out to wrap her fingers around his wrist. “Stop.”

He fell silent, his chest falling and rising fast. Robert stared at him, and Alec stared back. No one dared to move.

It was Robert who eventually broke the silence. “I’m sorry,” he said.

“For what?” Alec asked.

“For thinking you were the right person to lead the company on,” Robert said. His face was void of any emotion. “I see now that I was right – I should have named someone else.”

Alec dug his nails into the palms of his hands. “Perhaps you should have,” he agreed. He ripped his hand free from Isabelle’s grip. “I want nothing to do with your pointless company.”

Robert looked away, his nostrils flaring. “You will still be my beneficiary,” he said decidedly. “If not for your sake, then for your wife’s. I wish you the best of marriage.”

Alec felt something bubbling in his chest. Anger, he realised. Bitterness. “You don’t know the half of it,” he said, and with that, he walked out of Robert’s house and life.

 

*

 

Isabelle sent him three letters in total, during the weekend. She delivered them herself, and always stopped to knock at his door and ask to be let in.

Alec remained curled up in his bed, staring blankly at the walls.

He knew he shouldn’t have said anything. He should have kept his mouth shut and been like Isabelle and Maryse and Clary and every bloody other person – quiet, and sad. He’d wasted his chances with Robert. He was dying, and he’d wasted their last moments being angry.

He’d felt terrible the second he’s stepped out of the house. All the anger had vanished in an instant, replaced by burning hot guilt and regret that he now carried with him.

There was no fixing this, he realised. Robert would die, and Alec would get his money, but he wouldn’t feel good about it – he’d be guiltier, and worse, and he’d have to give all the money to Maryse and hope that she could still look him in the eyes.

Why hadn’t he stopped? He’d said what had been on his mind for years, and for a splintering second it had felt good to finally be honest – but it wasn’t Robert’s fault for not telling them sooner. Or maybe it was, a little bit, but Alec could understand it was a reflex fuelled by love – ultimately, he hadn’t wanted for them to spend weeks suffering and worrying, when there was a wedding coming up.

The wedding. They needed to call it off, there was no point to it anymore. Maryse would understand if Alec said it had been a mutual decisions, that maybe Clary had finally seen the real Alec and no longer wanted to marry him, or perhaps that Alec was too grief stricken to be able to hold a ceremony – whatever they decided on, the wedding couldn’t happen.

It was Sunday when Magnus finally showed up. Alec opened the door for him, and as soon as it closed, he flung his arms around him and pressed his forehead against his shoulder, eyes shut and the tears he’d been holding for days pressing at the corners of his eyes.

“It’s all right to cry,” Magnus told him, holding him in his arms. “It’s all right, my love.”

Magnus lead them back to the bedroom and sat Alec down on the bed, kneeling in front of him. He took Alec’s hands in his, caressing them with his thumbs. “What happened?” He asked, quietly.

Alec told him all of it, sometimes pausing for to breathe or compose himself. Magnus listened, without saying a word or ever cutting in. He continued to look at Alec worryingly, his brows creased slightly.

By the time Alec had finished saying all that he wanted to, they’d moved on to lying on the bed, pressed against each other.

Magnus was silent for a while. Alec began drawing lazy circles against his chest. He wasn’t sure he wanted to hear whatever it was that Magnus wished to say, but he had to. He trusted Magnus to be honest with him, and most of all, to not shy back from saying things that Alec was afraid of hearing.

“He said he doesn’t have that many days?” He finally asked.

Alec nodded. Somehow, opening his mouth felt like a burden.

“Do you know if… if he’s still here?”

Alec shrugged.

Magnus hesitated for a brief second. “If I were you,” he said, “I would find out if he is still alive, and I would go see him. This is your last chance to make things right.” He looked at Alec, smiling a little. “You can be honest without being brutal, love.”

And so, the following morning, Alec read all of Isabelle’s letters – all of them asking him to come back home – and did just that.

Maryse opened the door, her face tired and weary. Upon seeing Alec, she gave a little smile. “Good,” was all she said, before retreating back inside the house.

Alec found Robert in the study, hunched over his books.

“Not now, Maryse,” he said – wheezed. “I told you to… knock.” He’d turned to see Alec standing by the doorway. “What do you want?” He asked, but there was no fight in his tone, only exhaustion.

Alec stepped inside, and closed the door behind him. “I wanted to talk.”

Robert nodded. “So, talk,” he said.

There was too much to say, and too little time. Alec took a deep breath in, and released it. “I need to tell you something.”

“So, tell.”

Alec bit his lip. “I have—” No. “I’ve been—” No. “I’m sorry.”

Robert looked almost sad. “I know,” he said. “Me, too.”

“For what I said then,” Alec said. “And for deceiving you, too.”

“I know,” Robert repeated.

Alec frowned. “You can’t know,” he said. “I haven’t told you yet.”

With some effort, Robert stood up from his chair. He turned his back on Alec to stare out of the window at the street below. “You’re not going to marry Ms. Fray,” he said.

“No,” Alec agreed.

“Because she is already in love with your sister,” Robert continued. At Alec’s stunned silence, he turned towards him. “Do you take me for a fool? I may be old, and dying, but I am not blind. I suspect it has been going on for a while, now.” He paused, still looking at Alec. “And I suspect now that you might be similar, too.”

Alec’s chest felt tight. “Yes,” he said, feeling the weight of the word on his tongue. “I am. He told me to come and see you.”

Robert smiled. “A wise man, then.” He coughed, and lifted a hand to stop Alec as he took a step closer. “There’s no need to bother. I should assume I’ll be going any day now.”

Alec didn’t know what to say. If there even was anything to say.

Robert stopped coughing, and straightened his back. “I’m glad you came,” he said. “And I forgive you. For what you have said and done alike.”

There was something stuck in Alec’s throat. He cleared it. “I forgive you, as well,” he said quietly. He wasn’t sure if it was the truth or not, but it was what he had to say, here and now.

Robert hummed. Alec wasn’t sure whether he believed him, either.

As he was leaving, Robert’s voice stopped him. “Alexander?” He asked.

Alec turned back to look.

Robert smiled at him sadly. “I’m proud to call you my son. If nothing else, don’t forget that.”

 

*

 

The mansion was grand, and expensive, and over the top in all possible ways. It had too many rooms, too much space, and far too much silver cutlery for any man to own. The chandelier would be impossible to clean, and the windows, too. The garden was overgrown with weeds and would take years to get into proper shape.

Alec loved it.

“More wine?” Alec asked.

“Please,” Isabelle said, offering her glass towards him.

They were sitting around the dining room table – him and Magnus, Clary and Isabelle, Jace and Simon and Maia. The dinner had long ago been eaten, and the dishes cleaned away. They were now drinking Magnus’ wine collection dry, delightfully tipsy but not yet drunk.

It had been Magnus’ idea to invite everyone over, to celebrate their new house. Alec had been weary – the last time he’d seen his siblings had been at the funeral. But Magnus argued that it would be good to make new memories, happier memories, and Alec supposed he was right.

“Tell me your story,” Magnus asked Jace, sipping his wine. “I’m titillated.”

Jace looked smug and self-satisfied. “ _Well_ ,” he drawled. “I’m simply too irresistible of a man for only one person—”

Simon reached out to smack him lightly on the shoulder. “Shut up,” he said, but he was grinning. “There isn’t a single irresistible thing in your body.”

Jace wiggled his brows. “Are you certain? I recall you naming a few—”

“Boys,” Maia cut in. “Not in company. We talked of this.”

“Clearly not enough,” Clary mumbled. “I do not need to know of your private lives—”

“She only says that because she finds herself disinterested in the male form,” Isabelle announced, smirking at Clary. “Isn’t that so, dear?”

Clary flushed lightly. “It is none of their business,” she said. “You know that the only form I’m interested in is you.”

The whole table collectively cooed. Alec found himself smiling so wide his cheeks hurt a little. It felt good.

“I find the male form _very_ interesting,” Jace said. He turned his head to smile at Maia. “And yours, too, my dear.”

Maia smiled sardonically. “I think yours lacks things to be desired.”

They laughed at Jace’s affronted look.

Alec was happy for his siblings, and the love they’d found. He thought Clary to be good for Isabelle, and so far he found Simon and Maia to balance out Jace’s ego and insecurities alike in a way that he’d never seen anyone do, before.

It was nice, he decided. All of this.

“A toast,” Magnus said suddenly, raising his glass. “To new beginnings.”

“To new beginnings,” they all echoed, and when Alec took a sip of his wine and it burned lightly on his tongue, he felt alive.

**Author's Note:**

> find me on tumblr dot hell @ wilderogers (or my wlw moodboard sideblog, wlweos)


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